


Trade all my Tomorrow’s for just one Yesterday

by orphan_account



Series: Still Waters [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a side story to the Still Waters series looking at Ignis' despair at losing the man who meant everything to him





	Trade all my Tomorrow’s for just one Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Fall Out Boy song

**Trade all my Tomorrow’s for just one Yesterday**

 

  Ignis Scientia lifted his face to feel the burgeoning warmth of the new dawn and tears streaked through the mud and blood and sweat coating his face.  He could feel that warmth, almost sense the light struggling through the darkness around them, but it couldn’t penetrate the darkness in his heart.  He was broken, sobbing, his voice hoarse and low as he spoke his King’s, his lover’s name.  The light would not be coming had the best man he’d ever known made the ultimate sacrifice, leaving him alone in a world he couldn’t see, bereft of a man he could never hold again.  It wasn’t fair.  Leaving him to live without Noctis wasn’t fair.  It was cruel.

  Thankfully Gladio and Prompto left him to his grief for the moment, allowing him this time to cry – not that they weren’t feeling their own pain; they’d loved him too, Prompto was his best friend, Gladio losing the man he was to Shield and protect.  He could hear them raking in harsh breaths behind him, but neither man made a move toward him.  He thought that if they had right then, he’d lash out, unable to control himself.  He didn’t want their comfort, he wanted Noct back.

  When they’d all met their returning King in Hammerhead, Noct had sounded different, his voice deeper, tinged with regret, his footsteps heavier and when his hand had settled on Ignis’ shoulder he knew his lover was looking at him.  He’d never wished to see again so much as that moment, he wanted to see the face he’d been missing, been longing for, aching to see for ten years.  Ten years of remembering entering the room with Crystal to find it empty of Noct, cursing the Astrals, pounding his fists and palms against the sharp shards of the crystal, begging it to release Noct, pleading for it to give him back, raging and screaming, eventually pulled away and tended to by Prompto, urgently whispering that they needed to leave.  If it had been left to Ignis he would have maintained his ten-year vigil beside the Crystal.  In place of that he set to learning to do everything he’d been able to do previously, asking Cor to help him learn how to wield his daggers in the darkness of his blindness.  He had thrown his cane away, making himself rely on his senses to get himself around, replacing his tinted glasses for a pair of wraparound lenses that covered more of his scars.  He taught himself to cook again, burning himself more times than he cared to admit, but he’d done it.  He’d learnt to read braille, Talcott acquiring books for him from the Lestallum Library.  And then finally he felt ready to delve into the history of Eos to try and discover what he could about the Prophecy and Ardyn.  What he’d found had made him rage for days.

  Noctis had asked him quietly a few days ago, would he be able to sense the dawn and Ignis had assured him he would know.  Unspoken were the words that swirled in his mind, taunting him, ‘I’ll know because you will be dead, I’ll know because the magic in my life will be gone, I’ll know loss and I’ll know grief and I’ll never be able to feel the way I’ve felt when I am with you.’  Instead he had clung to his lover trying to etch the feeling of his body flush with his into his mind, into his heart, trailing his fingers over Noct’s face, feeling the foreign beard that bristled along his jaw, the soft lips he loved to kiss, the sharp slope of his nose, tracing the line of his cheekbones, ghosting over his eyelids, the flutter of his long lashes against the pads of his sensitive fingertips, his brow now lined in worry and duty, his hair longer and flopping around his face.  Noct had captured his hands after their exploring to kiss his scarred palms, each fingertip, his wrists, leaving a fiery trace behind that Ignis tried to keep forever.  The other two men had gone into the tent letting them have the security of the camper at Hammerhead, leaving them alone, giving them this private moment, a chance to say goodbye.  Ignis didn’t want to say goodbye, but what he wanted didn’t matter, had never mattered to the Gods and their plans.  How he hated them. 

  “We need to find him…” Ignis whispered, his voice sticking in his throat and he heard the other two coming closer.  He spun on his heel and headed to the steps, brushing past Prompto and Gladio, ignoring the hands reaching to steady him.  Yes, he was shaking, but he didn’t want anyone to touch him right now.  He almost stumbled at the first step, his toe hitting it sharply.  He forced himself to lift his foot and make his way up each one, his heart beating out of his chest, tears drying on his cheeks.  The other two followed close on his heels, still not speaking.  Making their way through the ground floor to the bank of elevators, Ignis entered quickly, turning to the panel on the wall with the buttons for each floor.  He’d been in these elevators enough when he worked here to know which one he needed, ghosting his fingers over the panel till he found the one near the bottom right that would take them up.  He tried to control his breathing as they rose higher, to stop the harsh panting, settle his heart, fighting to regain some of his control.  He could feel Prompto and Gladio’s eyes on him, it was like an itch on the side of his face.  The gunner took a deep breath as if he were about to speak, but he didn’t, instead letting it out in a deep sigh.  He heard the blond shuffling beside him, knowing it was a nervous tick of Prompto’s, a need to be doing something whenever he felt uncomfortable.

  He sucked in a breath as they reached the doors of the throne room and slowly he pushed them open.  Each step made him feel like his feet were lead, step after step taking him closer to the throne.  Prompto was beginning to sob quietly, Gladio sniffling and he heard them pause at the bottom of the stairs to the throne.  Ignis kept going.  He made it up the first flight to the bottom landing turning himself to the right a little, reaching his hand out to find the bannister for the next set of steps that would take him to the top.  The silence from his friends was becoming oppressive, but then he heard them following, the slow purposeful footfalls of Gladio, lighter hesitant ones from Prompto.  He heard them gasp as the three of them reached the last steps up to the throne.

  “Ignis…” Prompto whispered.

  He held his hand out to silence him.

  “Ignis, please…” Gladio’s voice held a warning in it.

  “Don’t,” he snapped sharply and held his hand out to touch the armrest of the throne.  He leaned forward to find the body of his king and found no trace.  The only thing he could find was a blade shoved into the back of the seat and he sunk to his knees, “no,” he whispered.  He was not even to have the comfort of holding Noct one last time, he wouldn’t be able to bury him.  “NO…” he yelled, venting his anger at the Gods, “why?”  He ghosted his hands over the blade, fingers sticky with the blood that coated it, Noct’s blood.  He felt the hilt and he recognised the blade that had taken his lover, feeling the wings and decoration, the Sword of the Father.  More cruelty, Regis’ sword.  He caressed it, not caring about the blood on his fingers.  Filled with despair and rage he gripped the hilt and using everything he could muster he yanked it out, momentum making him stumble he cast it out behind him to hear it clatter to the floor.

  Prompto gasped at his throwing of the sword and Gladio placed a firm hand on his shoulder when he stood on legs turned to jelly, but he shrugged it off and heart heavy, he stormed from away from the throne, down the stairs and out of the room, he never wanted to be in there ever again.

  They found him later seated outside the Citadel, head cradled in his hands, turned away from the sun.  He didn’t want to feel it, he wanted to go back just one day, to a yesterday where he felt more whole, a day to where he could hold Noct.  Every tomorrow would be worth that to him.  The Gods could have their tomorrows if he could just…go back.  He didn’t care about light he couldn’t see.  He was locked in darkness, it was filling him now, taking him over.  Ignis held himself stiffly, tense and hurting, not even able to cry anymore, he was beyond tears, they weren’t enough to express the pain he felt.  Prompto sat beside him, tentative in his presence, not wanting to intrude but needing to be close.  Gladio was pacing slowly on the steps behind them, before he too sat beside Ignis, on the other side, his friends flanking him, not touching, but offering themselves.

  “I…I need to get out of here…please,” Ignis whispered, not trusting his voice to speak louder.

  Gladio grumbled softly, “yeah, ok, Iggy.”

  He left the explanations to Gladio when they got back to Hammerhead, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words, admit that Noct was gone, really gone this time.  He took himself to the edge of the hunter’s outpost, keeping away from everyone, he needed solitude.  He wasn’t aware of Prompto watching from across the compound.

  Several days later, they made their way back to Lestallum and Ignis shut himself in his rooms and made his plans.  He decided that he would only stay as long as he felt he needed to, help Lucis begin to get back on its feet, but he would do that from Lestallum, he didn’t want to go back to Insomnia and the Crown City.  Then he would withdraw, go somewhere remote, quiet and wait for death to take him.  He reasoned that he had given enough of himself, he’d lived for Noctis, but now that the King was dead, his lover taken, he had no reason to stay, others could handle the rebuilding.

  Prompto dropped by every few days to check on him, though he didn’t say that, he would just make it seem like he wanted to visit.  He tried to comfort the former advisor, but Ignis couldn’t be comforted, he was sunk in a deep depression, lost and floundering.  And Prom was dealing with his own grief.  He couldn’t very well pull Ignis out of something he was mired in himself.  They would sit in silence in Ignis’ rooms, unable to voice what they felt.  Gladio avoided them both.

  The weeks ticked by and Ignis just couldn’t find the energy or will to do anything significant with his time.  He’d devoted everything to Noct, he’d been his world and even over those ten years waiting for his return, Ignis had at least been occupied readying himself for his return.  Noct would never be coming back now, and he felt no reason to go on.  It got worse and worse as weeks turned to months.  Monica would give him reports, Talcott reading them to him, but he found he had no real interest in them, couldn’t find the drive he used to have.  There were others who could take this on, he wasn’t useful anymore, he was just a blind man sunk into a grief so profound he could hardly function. 

  Noct would appear each night in his dreams, the image of the man he loved fuzzy around the edges, time wearing away the image like water wears stone.  He was losing it all.  During the day, he would stare sightlessly out the window, hating the warmth of the sun, but not wanting to avoid it, Noct had given everything to bring it back, it was almost like sacrilege to treat it with such disdain, though he could not bring himself to enjoy it.

  Noct had been gone over five months when Monica came to him and told him she’d asked Prompto and Gladio to assess the damage in the Crown City, she sat quietly beside asking him if he would go too.

  “We need your expertise, Ignis, I would not ask otherwise…” she trailed off.

  He wanted to tell her no, tell her to leave him alone, lash out, just like he had been with everyone since his return to Lestallum, but something stopped him this time.  His mind worked furiously through the fog of grief.  He felt they really didn’t need a man so broken, they were just humouring him, trying to make him move on, but he couldn’t, he didn’t want to.  So, with a plan forming in his mind he agreed.

  Ignis Scientia, lover of the King of the Dawn, advisor, strategist, Grand Chamberlain, would make one last trip, he would go to the City, assess the damage and make a report on what was needed to be done, then he would say a last goodbye to his love.  He told Monica he would need a few days to organise himself for the trip and she seemed relieved that he agreed, but then she wasn’t aware of his plan.  He wouldn’t be returning.

  He gave away his rooms, and when Talcott questioned him he lied, schooling his face to stillness as he told the young man who’d become an assistant of sorts that he would be living in Hammerhead from now on, it was closer to the Crown City, so he would be in a position to be useful there, close to both Lestallum and his former home.  He hid how broken he still felt, how torn in two he would feel entering the City again, Talcott was a good man, he would be fine without him, he didn’t need Ignis’ guidance. 

  As he sat in the borrowed truck that would take the three men to Insomnia he fell into silence, head bowed, ignoring the attempts of Gladio and Prompto at conversation and thankfully they gave up.  They pulled up outside the southern gate and would have to walk across the bridge.  His steps felt as heavy as they had the day he walked up the Citadel steps to reclaim the body of Noctis, it was all he could think about and he rebuffed any words from Prom.  Gladio had given up entirely, not even grumbling at him.  Ignis did not care, could not care.  All he cared about was his plan.  If he spoke, they would hear the pain in his voice, hear the agony of his grief and they might guess his intentions.  He would not let that happen, they could not be allowed to stop him.  A broken man like him didn’t deserve to have them try to dig him out of the pit he was in, they would do it because they felt they had to.  Ignis didn’t want pity, he just wanted it all to be over.  And soon it would be.

  He would say his last goodbye to Noctis and then he would make his way to the throne room, rest his head where the love of his life had been taken from him and he would take his own life.  He knew enough of human anatomy and biology to know where to use his daggers to end it quickly, no point in prolonging this agony any longer.  He would not allow time for the other two to find him and save him.

  Ingis wandered around the city, Prompto taking notes as Gladio described the destruction around them.  He pointed out to the Gunner what would need to be done to clear the city, what steps would have to be taken to make it habitable again, people could stay in the Citadel while they worked to make the rest of the Crown City ready.  Ardyn had taken up residence there and Gods knew that man wanted to make himself comfortable, so it had power and water and heating.  It would do for those who would live there.  According to Prompto, Ardyn had left the Citadel virtually intact.  All the better, Ignis thought, he wanted to visit Noct’s old rooms to say his goodbye.

  He informed the others that he was going to go up there, that it was where he would be when they were ready to depart.  It would take them time to find his body, they knew he hated the throne room now, they wouldn’t think to look there.  Now that his plan was in motion, he started to feel at peace.  He was ready to die.

  He spent an hour or more in Noct’s old rooms, running his hand over things that his lover had touched, making his way to the bedroom, trailing his fingers over clothing that had been left behind and Ignis thought he could just make out the delicate scent of Noct’s cologne, a gift from himself, lingering in the fabric.  He’d let the tears fall, let the ache of loss wash over him as he whispered his goodbye.  “I love you, Noct.  Always.”  It came out in a choked whisper as he turned to leave. 

  His steps faltered when he heard the approach of Prompto, the slight bounce in his footfalls that confused him, the gunner had been so reigned in lately, he’d not heard him stepping this lightly for so long.  He turned his face towards the sound and waited for the blond to approach.  He would have to slip away after Prompto left, he’d think of some excuse.

  “There’s something going on in the plaza, Iggy, I think you need to see…please…just come with me,” There was a pleading tone in the gunner’s voice and Ignis sighed and held his hand out, indicating that he would follow.  His plan would have to wait for a few minutes at least, frustration rising that he couldn’t just be done with it all, have it be over.  They made their way downstairs and out onto the steps, he heard Gladio speak in low tones to Prompto but couldn’t make out the words, they were muffled by the shuffling of feet, hundreds of feet if he were hearing correctly.

  “He’s back, Iggy, please, just wait, he’s coming,” Prom had whispered. 

  He turned towards the blond to ask him what he was talking about but his words faltered when he heard a set of tired footfalls ascending the stairs.  Ignis shook his head, confounded by what he was hearing, surely his ears deceived him, he was deluded, dreaming possibly.  It could _not_ be who he thought it was, that was not possible.  He inhaled sharply and fell to his knees at the familiar touch on his shoulder, the same as it had been six months ago, the same weight, the same fingers and palm.  His breath caught, trapped in his throat, dizzying him.  And then Noct spoke.

  All his remaining senses were telling him that the impossible had happened, that the man he loved stood before him, was embracing him, whispering in his ear in that voice he knew so well and heard in his dreams every night, saying things that Ignis couldn’t comprehend in his astonishment.

  He heard “I love you.”  Music to his ears.

  He heard “marry me.”  A dream he thought never to be fulfilled.

  He heard “you’ll see again.”

  He tried to get his mouth working, his limbs, anything to respond.  Finally, he lifted his hand to feel, trace over the jaw, cheeks, to those plump lips, “Truly?”  He tried to clear his throat, to speak, to ask what he needed to know, his hope a fragile bird trapped in his chest, “You are back, they let you come back, you are truly alive?”

  When the King tearfully explained that he’d been given a choice and that the Astrals asked what he wanted in return for making the ultimate sacrifice for the people of Eos, that he had chosen to come back and that Ignis would see again and made a joke about stuffing it all up now that he could actually _be_ King of Lucis, the tall man gripped his lover tighter and smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity.  He made some stupid comment in return, his brain whirring, unable to think coherently and then Noct was asking him if he wanted to wait for privacy for his healing, the restoration of his sight.

  “No, no, Noctis, I want to see your face, I want to see my King, it’s been too long,” he lowered his voice so only Noct could hear, “my little raven.” And with his fingers he felt Noctis smile.

  What came next was still confusing to Ignis, he felt the sudden drop in temperature, a freezing pair of lips pressed to his own and then an odd warmth that spread through his whole body followed by Noct begging him to open his eyes.

  The first thing Ignis saw after over ten years of darkness was the bright light of Noctis Lucis Caelum smiling at him and it took his breath away, he was gloriously beautiful.  That soft smile was answered by one of his own and he felt complete, whole.  Ignis drank in the sight of his King before him like a man who’d been deprived of water, his memories overlaid with the reality of the changes he could now see, all he could do was smile and stare, mapping Noct’s features with both fingers and his restored sight, etching them into his mind, his reason for living restored to him.  He had almost missed this chance.  A fleeting thought about the timing of the Astrals flicked in and then out of his brain.

  When he eventually tore his eyes away he’d found Prompto crying beside him, his eyes on Ignis and his penetrating blue gaze said he knew what Ignis had intended to do.  No-one ever gave Prompto enough credit, he was far more intelligent and knowing than anyone would ever guess.  Ignis had ducked his head guiltily, hiding from that perceptiveness and turned his gaze back to Noct, a reverence in his look that he’d never be able to hide and would never want to.  He would never hide how he felt about Noctis, not from anyone.

  Ignis realised that this was something that he would always do now, savour the gift of Noctis, of being able to see him and he would never take that for granted.  Fierce in his loyalty and protection, enduring in his love and desire for the man in front of him.  He would never let anything come between them, nothing would ever be strong enough to divide them.  Noct was his and he was Noctis’, always.

  This tomorrow was worth keeping.

 

 

 


End file.
